Yes folks, you can be comfortable,
safe, and have fun in a small boat
with a minimum of cost.
Back in July of 1996, Mike Meier wrote us a letter, thanking all who had helped he and his wife get ready to go cruising in their Falmouth 22, "Mariko".  We asked him to let us know how things went, cruising aboard such a small boat. Two years later we got another wonderful letter from Mike describing what their cruise was like and some hints for voyaging in small boats. Mike got such a response to his letter that he was good enough to put his thoughts on "sailing tight" into this article. -Editor
Why anyone would want to spend long periods of time in a dark, damp, rolly place that closely resembles a tree inside, is completely beyond me. In fact, why would anyone spend time in a place that was tighter than the average jail cell, with the opportunity of drowning, and pay big money to do it.
 The reason we do it is because we have all dreamed about palm trees in paradise for years. We have all wished we could escape from work, be our own boss, pay no more taxes, be self-sufficient, and travel forever with a margarita in our hand. The only problem with the margarita scenario is that it will make you a drunk, and then your cruising plans really stop fast, and soon you'll be back to the taxes thing.
Many of you have responded to our letters and asked for input. We have answered many questions via the internet and made lots of new friends, all of whom were looking for ways to get there quicker and easier, get there more comfortably, and most of all, enjoy cruising the most. A little history is required so those who read this have a clue where we are coming from and how we did it.
Over the years we've had lots of sailboats. Rangers, Gloucesters, Sunfish, Islanders, US Yachts, Fugi's, and our Falmouth have graced our slip over the years. The choice of the right boat was determined after much trial and error, not common sense. We tried all the normal NW boats, sailing up the coast from Portland, and into the islands for two weeks at a time.
In the old days, I used to bring groups up and sail them around the islands on chartered boats for a week or two, so we had our hands on lots of different designs.  They all sailed well, some faster than others. Some could not carry enough weight and when loaded with a ton of stores and stuff they sailed like a garbage truck on its way to the dump.
We found the really, really fast boats were fun to sail but, because the motion was so severe and required so much attention to keep them going fast, we became too fatigued for the long haul with a short crew.
Next we tried the really slow, stable vessels and were bored to tears, or at least bored enough to break out the board games. Worse yet was that we had plenty of time to finish a game. This left us with the quandary, can we afford the really big, fast comfortable boat that is stable and sea kindly but quick? Of course we can't, so why ask.
Our choice narrowed down to full keel boats shortly after we hit some stuff in early spring cruises in the Sound. Our first full keeler was a Fugi Ketch. What a beautiful boat, full of all the details of the old masters: spoked teak wheel, teak rails, teak trim, teak platform, and teak interior (the log effect). It was a wonderful boat with room for a crowd and it sailed reasonably well until you headed up wind. Our windward ability was similar to Noah's boat, you know the Ark, that 20 cubits by 40 cubits vessel capable of carrying two of each animal in the world. Not exactly blazing performance to windward. But who needs to point, we will just crank up the old diesel and power into it. That thought actually put myself and a boat load of kids from Portland in trouble as we headed up the coast towards Barkley Sound.
As we sailed out of the Columbia River into a westerly, it seemed our passage would be a wonderful sail, perfect for a ketch. About eight hours out the wind strengthened and swung around to the north, "noserlies" again, and eventually strong enough to blow out the main.  I could not get the ketch to point high enough to make headway in the sea state, and the Loran was ticking off arrival times like 65 hours plus, so our northward progression was almost nonexistent. So much for pointing. When we tried to fire up the diesel we discovered the pounding had broken an oil line loose and we had black oil all over the engine room. We put all the extra oil in the engine, repaired the leak as best we could and sailed back to the Columbia River. We sailed across in the dark and had just enough engine time to get her into a slip and tied up.
I loved that boat, but after almost killing my kids and all their friends I wanted something that went to weather like a 57 Chev.
We sailed more boats looking for the right sail and hull combination. Finally, we sailed a cutter rig, then another and another. It was love at second headsail. We could point, and shorten sail and still point, without wearing out the crew or pounding the boat to death. A cutter was in our life to stay and the search for the right one was on.
We read the Pardey books like everyone else. In fact, if you didn't own a couple and kept them on your bookshelf, you surely couldn't sail out of a bathtub. I can truthfully say everything they said was pretty much right on for us. Not everyone will find that true, but if you're a little old fashioned and like cutters, you're going to gravitate to their philosophy. After we met them and actually spent some time with them talking about all this stuff, we were really sold. The wife even took the picture of them for the cover of their last book, sealing our fate.
We were walking down a dock one day and there she was Mariko Falmouth Cutter #9. Such a cute little boat, and factory finished. More teak than a forest and talk about the log effect, wow. On the test sail we gave a local San Juan 24 a run for it to my surprise, and she pointed. We bought her and have been turning down offers ever since.
Be sure to read Hints for Tight Sailing... Michael continues his story.
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